Music History Part 41 - The Rise of Up Records, Built to Spill and 'Indie Rock'

Disclaimer: Memory is a funny thing, and an elusive one. Meaning; I might have some of this wrong, as 1. My memory is not always accurate, like anyone and 2. It is from my perspective only. Any friends  who were there, feel free to correct me or add things I have missed. It helps! Also, no gossip on anyone here, it ain't about that. Personal details are on a surface level, and friends, girlfriends and others are re-named to respect their privacy. People in bands generally put their names out there on albums and in interviews anyway, and are not in the habit of staying anonymous, and therefore are named here. That said, anyone who is in the blog that wishes me not to use their name has only to ask.  

Seattle Years Disclaimer: As I enter the Seattle years in this music blog, the above disclaimer goes double, because so much happened and there are so many details to cover in this 14 year period; so many shows, so many bands, so many friends and so much change in my life. As a result of this and the fact that the four of us who formed Treepeople found ourselves in the midst of a scene which blew up around us and attracted the eyes of the world just 2 years after our arrival, not to mention the 12 years I played music following that, I am bound to, hell, I will forget something.

This means two things: I will be coming back to entries and adding things to them over the months following publication, and, that the part of the above disclaimer where I ask for help from people in keeping me honest and in remembering things is crucial to them. I thank anyone ahead of time who was there, and, those who weren't there who have access to valid info, for helping me to correct errors in dates or chronology. Yes, I have the Internet, but many bands, scenes and things I will cover did not receive the attention I feel that they deserved and thus I will recall them mostly from memory, or rather, memories; mine and those of friends. Also, friends who were in bands which I do not happen to mention, please don't take it personally, just remind me. I have created a monster in undertaking this blog, one which I am determined to ride until the end!

Lastly, as mentioned, this scene gained national attention, and thus, needless to say and as we all know, many bands/people became famous, became rock stars, were/are admired by millions, etc and etc...This makes another part of my original disclaimer even more important. This memoir is intended to tell my story, from my perspective. I have no intention of creating a place where people can seek gossip about famous people, nor is it about 'name-dropping'. I write of my impressions of people, bands, and the Seattle scene from the '90s into the early 2000s. I protect those who are my friends fiercely because a symptom of being known is frequent intrusion into their lives beyond a level that I feel is acceptable. Thank you for indulging me this disclaimer.

A kind of disclaimer on Violent Green entries...In writing about the band Violent Green, at this time I am not in contact with Jenny O'lay, so I am not directly getting input from her, and, one member is no longer alive. In the case of the former, out of respect to O'lay, I am compelled to keep personal details at a high level, and in terms of Drew Quinlan (RIP, Brother), I am not in touch with any of his family to get approval of what I write about concerning him, as I did with my previously passed bandmate, Pat Schmaljohn (and thus felt better in writing about Pat) but I do not have the same access to family in Drew's case, so for that reason, out of respect for Drew and his family, I will also keep details at a high level. I won't make it cold and unpersonal, don't misunderstand me. Our dynamic as people was a huge part of the band. I guess what I am getting at is there are details that will remain private, to meet with high standards I strive to meet on this blog, even more so in light of this lack of input from the former bandmates of which I write. I hope I have achieved these standards. This  also brings up the point I always make, but it is important to reiterate; this is all from my perspective only, and of anyone whom I get input from.

Our odd relationships and their tensions were one with the music, and I think, actually I know, that was a good thing, a necessary ingredient of this band, a band that forever reshaped how I thought about music, both listening to it and making it. I owe that to Drew and Jenny's brilliance and imperfectness, which made me feel okay about my own imperfections, (only to a degree, as my inner, self-critical voice was still in full effect) and it helped me realize that even I held brilliance, in my own way, when I played with them, warts and all. One thing I can confidently say is; we gave a fuck about the music. And that was because this was a highly musical band (most of the people who got what we were doing were musicians themselves) and thus I will focus much of my energy in terms of the VG entries talking about that; the music, it's influences and forms, and how the three of us and what we brought to the band from previous projects and the music we each loved, created, eventually, a rich tapestry. It is worth digging into this world O'lay spun with this bizarre, dark, poppy, goth, folksy punk music from Mars ~ * 

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My other blogs: Short Story Long - (Top of mind, conversational, formal essays, photo essays, etc.) Artwork, Poetry


Bad Dog, No Bagel

I previously mentioned I had started a new job around '93 at a hip bagel cafe that was beginning to expand, called 'Spot Bagel.' The 'spot' part of the name came from their mascot, a dalmation, and eventually led to the slogan, 'Bad dog, No Bagel,' as a play on 'Bad Cop, No Donut,' and which became a T-shirt and effectively the uniform. In the beginning of Spot Bagel's history, a uniform would be anathema.

It was a pretty low key business, the vibe of which reminded me of health food stores in the '70s. Spot started with a cafe located in the Wallingford Neighborhood of Seattle, right in the heart of it, across the street from the iconic Food Land store (which eventually became a QFC store, who replaced the 'Foodland' sign of the previous tenants with a sign that said 'Wallingford' because the residents of the neighborhood were losing their shit, not because a small business was being crushed - though some were in that camp - but because the sign was so important to them, and marked something for them - to me this scenario represented how Seattlites, most anyway, have their priorities all fucked up - a similar scene played out when Tully's Coffee bought the iconic building that housed Rainier Beer and people were freaking out about the giant red 'R' sign going away - causing Tully's to replace it with a giant green 'T,' which only served to piss people off even more).

Spot Bagel was started by a young, hipster Jewish guy named Jay Glass. I interacted with him a few times over the time I was at Spot. Seemed like a decent guy. He made the decisions that were later very bad for the company, but it was the people he brought in that really messed it up, in my opinion, and ultimately led to its closure in 1996, here is a blurb about its closure: http://community.seattletimes.nwsource.com/archive/?date=19960801&slug=2342067)

I interviewed with a guy I will call Luis outside a new Spot Bagel cafe being opened up, the first of many planned, located in the Newmark Building, one block East of the famous Pike Place Market downtown. The Newmark was a brand new building that had gone up in what seemed like just a couple of months (and how fast it fell apart confirms it couldn't have been more). I hadn't done a high number of official interviews. 

At that time in the US, and, for young folks especially, it was a lot who you knew that got you hired at a job, a good word got you in, like how I got the construction job just after moving to Seattle with zero construction experience. I was a little nervous about the interview, but I kinda didn't give a fuck if I got this job or not, had steeled myself for a slog of pavement pounding. In retrospect, I would have easily gotten any number of service jobs, as the city's job economy was strong, most specifically in service jobs (to serve all the self-important new money people flocking there in white flight from Oakland and other urban centers, they clutched their pearls and bought property like mad, driving up the cost of living in a wave that has only increased to the point of no return. Seattle may as well be San Francisco, now). 

My indifference came off as confidence, and Luis offered me the job on the spot (no pun intended, but I'll take it) and when I said' "I'll take the job," he seemed stunned. "You will?" 

Oh how I wished that I had remembered this little demonstration of what self-assuredness (not a word, but should be - and yet 'self-absurdness' is?) gets you, but really, to be fair to Young Wayne, he had no fucking clue it came off as confidence, just as he didn't understand this fact for most things.

I will come back to Spot Bagel, as it was an important thread to my increasingly busy and complex life. Shit fell apart there in a spectacular way that now at least makes a good story. 

I found a photo of the café and I had forgotten  how Jetsons and neo-Seattle modern it was! This was where I worked everyday, and while the café area itself looked like a sci-fi film set, the kitchen was pretty standard.

Photo retrieved from: 

https://twitter.com/y2k_aesthetic/status/1292940002322599937/photo/1

 
The rise of Up Records and 'Indie Rock'

In 1993, 1994, the 'indie rock' scene (so dubbed as most bands that fell under the title were on independent, rather than major labels, though that quickly changed somewhat post Nirvana in the aforementioned 'major label feeding frenzy'), Chris Takino's and co-founder Rich Jensen's label (who had been a musician with early releases on Sub Pop and K Records and a productive music enthusiast since 1981) Up Records arose as a much needed alternate to the music then dominating the Seattle scene, where the majority of visible bands were on Sub Pop, most of whom at the time were a derivation of 70s hard rock with a splash of punk. In fact, Chris first approached Sub Pop about putting out a Built to Spill lp and they encouraged him to put it out himself.

The Up roster included bands/artists like Modest Mouse, Edsel, Mike Johnson, Juned, Caustic Resin, (do yourself a favor and clear some time to sit back and listen to the epic 1995 Up Records double LP release by them called Fly Me to the Moon - Well, what are you waiting for? At least look it up on You Tube!) Satisfact, Butterfly Train, Built to Spill, Duster (one of my fav bands at the time, still love their stuff, it stands up), Land of the Loops, acoustic guitarist and songwriter Rick Sabo, and of course, Violent Green, from where the whole thing launched, and on and on, all very different bands (and note the above list is off the top of my head, mostly.)

Up Records 17th release in 1995 - Artwork by Jeff Hogan

The bands of the label represented what was still true to the idea of the roster being simply bands Chris Takino loved. Luckily for Seattle, his taste was pretty fucking good. Go through the catalogue and you will see what I am on about. It should be noted with these indie labels, there was no exclusivity in the contracts, or if ever there was, not for long, thank goodness - for instance the Treepeople got our best record Guilt, Regret, Embarrassment back from Toxic Shock Records in 5 years, and now it is re-released on K Records. My point though, is that a number of these bands were also putting out records on other indie labels, for instance, the bands Satisfact and Modest Mouse both had released records on K simultaneously or before/after doing records with Up. One time I asked Calvin Johnson what he thought of Up Records and he smiled a wry little smile and half-jokingly said, "Not bad, but tell Chris to stop stealing my bands!"

The first office for Up Records was a one room office in the Terminal Sales Building, the same building Sub Pop was in (which made sense as Chris worked there still for a time, and of course Sub Pop I assume helped him get the space.) As I remember it, Chris was able to quit his job fairly soon after starting the label, but I could be wrong about that. When Up was in the Terminal building was the period when I stopped by the most often, I think because it was close to where I worked. Chris had assembled a small crew of folks to work for him. I remember every time I visited it was kind of exciting, too, to think that one of our own started a label, that the label started to put out a little record by an obscure band I was in and had begun to get a lot of attention. This makes sense, because Chris was one the most connected people I have ever met in the alternative/indie rock world, and one of the smartest. 

Terminal Sales Building, Seattle

It was also during the Terminal Sales Building period of Up that they put out Built to Spill's second lp, the wonderfully charming and introspective 'There's Nothing Wrong With Love.' This record made an instant splash, and put Doug on the map, and on a path to becoming an indie rock icon. That may not have been the goal for him or for Up, but it inevitably happened. Right place, right time.

I don't remember a time when Built to Spill shows in Seattle weren't packed. The guy who just wrote songs, showed up for Treepeople rehearsals and did little else in the band was gone. In his place was an enthusiastic, thoughtful and professional musician/songwriter, and leader of a band. It seemed in retrospect that the transformation was overnight, but I am sure this isn't true. The fact is since we met him, when he was 16, he slowly began to realize the potential of playing music for more than just a hobby [Then Future, now Now Wayne says; 'That's ridiculous, we all knew this pretty quickly, Yours, soon to be Past Wayne']. In one interview not long after this period he talked about how seeing the punk thing and what we, State of Confusion, and others were doing, he realized that you could do it without much money (or even talent, and he had plenty of that, anyway). Drive was the key thing, and he developed a drive over time. It was a drive, not to be 'the next big thing' or a rock star, but to get his music out to as many people as possible, and to play in front of as many people as possible.

The first incarnation of the band was pretty much a project, and he had intended to rotate line-ups on a regular basis. This line-up for There's Nothing Wrong With Love was essentially Farm Days, his first band, with Brett Nelson on bass and Andy 'Capps' on drums (RIP).

I hung out in the studio with them when they recorded the record and made a couple minor contributions, which hilariously led to people thinking that I at some point was in Built to Spill, some people still think that. Pretend that was said by our president, that is, it is not true. I added a silly little guitar lead with my fingers on the song 'Big Dipper' that was played through one of those transistor radio sized practice amps called, adorably, 'Marshas' (a play on the Marshall brand of amps, by far the amp of choice for any rock guitarist - in retrospect, it's a little sexist!) Listen below - my little silly part comes in at the 2:36 mark.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f7ysRps-iYA

I also did the voice after the joke ending songs, which are great, Doug wrote little diddies in different styles of music and packaged them as a sort of label promo sampler of different bands, there is a punk song ("...Kick you in the head/Gonna kick you in the head!...) and a country song ("...A man needs a woman/And a woman needs a man to love/Gonna hold on to you/My Midnight Star..."), etc. At the end of all this there is a weird voice I did that says "Look for the record with me on the cover!" When I was recording it, I had a mental block and kept adding 'Just' at the beginning. Doug kept correcting me through the talkback mic (the mic producers and engineers use to talk to artists between takes) and we were all cracking up. For inspiration for the voice, Doug told me to imagine what the voice of one of the artist Mike Scheer's little surreal creatures in his drawings might sound like. It was a hell of a lot of fun. But I was never in Built to Spill! They also used my bass rig on the album Perfect From Now On and Doug borrowed my Fender Jazz Noel Redding edition bass for Keep it Like a Secret as well. I guess I went from contributor to equipment supplier! I was happy to do it, of course.

It can't be overstated how much releasing 'There's Nothing Wrong With Love' put Up on the map, as much as it did for Doug. It was universally well-received and praised by all, and rightly so, I feel. There is nothing else quite like it in all of the BTS catalogue (or frankly anywhere else). It retained the innocence of Farm Days while bringing in stories from childhood that set the stage for the more epic, somewhat more grim lp Perfect From Now On. Listen to Twin Falls, Idaho and then listen to the opening track from PFNO, Randy Described Eternity to see what I am on about.

[And I am gravely remiss here, but I neglected to mention that this LP was produced by the very talented producer, young and up-and-coming Phil Ek, who would go on to produce many fine records, I missed this out of sloppiness? Laziness? Distractedness? Fuck, who knows - Absolutely no offense meant, Brother Phil - more on Mr. Ek later, I assure you]

 

Built to Spill's 2nd LP, on Up Records

Captiol Hill's Pine Street Scene

Eventually Up Records moved to Capitol Hill on Pine, right on the other side of the block from the apartment I used to live in on Summit. This strip of Pine (from about Boren to Broadway) was quickly becoming the center of a scene as there were hip businesses opening there. There was Linda's Tavern, a cool, dark bar with pool tables and booths, I think it is still there? Also, Bimbo's Bitchin' Burrito Kitchen became a center for many in the music scene, cheap eats, open late, and they had booze (and eventually opened a bar next door). A few of my friends, all musicians, worked at Bimbos. A record store would pop up here, a coffee house there. Bauhaus Coffee, one of my favorite haunts a few years after this time period of which I write, was toward the bottom of the hill of Pine, just before you head downtown.

Bimbos Bitchin' Burrito Kitchen  

Linda's Tavern, Seattle

Meanwhile, back in the world of Violent Green, we went to Reciprocal Studios toward the end of 1994, soon to be bought by Avast! studio owner Stuart Hallerman and producer John Goodmanson, and thus was renamed John & Stu's. Goodmanson would also engineer this very album, that is the album I keep hinting at, the album Eros. I promise I will actually write about it next time. I don't want it to be the old theater writing technique Orson Welles once described, where all the characters mention "Mr. Wu," in reverent tones throughout the play, but the audience never sees him, so that by the time he walks on stage, he has been so built up that his entrance causes 'Ooohs' and 'Ahhhs.' Or hell, maybe I do want that.

It is important to keep in mind when I zero in like this, to one label and one band and a handful of label-mates, whilst all this was going on, that the punk scenes I wrote of in previous entries (see entries #s 28-30) had grown and morphed as well, and, most importantly, were still going strong. Members of the aforementioned bands of our friends, like Whipped, began to play in bands like Decrepit (Guitarist/singer/songwriter Doug Pack of Whipped singing) and Shug (Paula Sen, bass player/singer/songwriter of Whipped playing guitar, songwriting and singing) and most of the bands mentioned in said Seattle punk entries were still at it in '94, bands that had started before Treepeople were still blazing trails, like Olympia's Fitz of Depression (formed 1987).
The Olympia ('Oly') scene was thriving, and it wasn't just K Records bands, there were bands on friendly rival label Kill Rock Stars as well, like one of my favorite bands ever, Unwound, who was relentlessly touring at this time with their new album, also my favorite, 'New Plastic Ideas.' Also on Kill Rock Stars, newly formed in 1994, was Sleater Kinney, who would also capture the attention of the world soon. There was new stuff bubbling, feminist rock movements out of Olympia like riot grrrl were in full bloom, and the whole Pacific Northwest was rising too, like the Portland, Oregon scene, which had bands like Quasi, Pond, Hazel, Crakerbash, Heatmiser (whose member Elliott Smith was quietly crafting brilliant, sad songs of his own that would soon go out into the world) Pink Martini, and so many others, Seattle had  fun punk bands like Gas Huffer featuring legend Tom Price on guitar, who were bouncing around, playing clubs. And dozens and dozens of bands were popping up, sometimes homegrown but mostly reloctaed out-of-towners. Nirvana was still on top (but sharing the limelight with Pearl Jam and Soundgarden and Alice in Chains, the first to break), as you can see, things were exploding in indie rock in the NW, but the reluctant pied piper of the movement, Kurt Cobain...he wasn't doing so well mentally and managing his addictions at the beginning of 1994. 

I remember working at Spot Bagel later when I heard on the radio that Kurt Cobain had almost Od'ed and gone into a coma in Italy in March (incidentally, the day after my 28th birthday). And I remember thinking, "Uh oh," and sort of bookmarking it. And then the woman asked me to spread the butter on the toasted bagel I was preparing for her more lightly, to scrape some off. "I don't even want to know it's there," she said matter-of-factly. 


Next time: A final Treepeople album fueled by Scott Schmaljohn without Doug (a portent of things to come for Scott), Wayne starts playing drums in a cool band called Faintly Macabre, is also recruited into The Halo Benders, our brother Kurt decides it's no longer worth it anymore, rattling the scene, and opening the doors for Ol Death to steal even more people away~~~~                                           
                                 

                               ( x )( x )                                  
 IIIIII

 

Music History Part 39 - The Fruits of a Music Scene Explosion

Disclaimer: Memory is a funny thing, and an elusive one. Meaning; I might have some of this wrong, as 1. My memory is not always accurate, like anyone and 2. It is from my perspective only. Any friends  who were there, feel free to correct me or add things I have missed. It helps! Also, no gossip on anyone here, it ain't about that. Personal details are on a surface level, and friends, girlfriends and others are re-named to respect their privacy. People in bands generally put their names out there on albums and in interviews anyway, and are not in the habit of staying anonymous, and therefore are named here. That said, anyone who is in the blog that wishes me not to use their name has only to ask. 

Seattle Years Disclaimer: As I enter the Seattle years in this music blog, the above disclaimer goes double, because so much happened and there are so many details to cover in this 14 year period; so many shows, so many bands, so many friends and so much change in my life. As a result of this and the fact that the four of us who formed Treepeople found ourselves in the midst of a scene which blew up around us and attracted the eyes of the world just 2 years after our arrival, not to mention the 12 years I played music following that, I am bound to, hell, I will forget something.

This means two things: I will be coming back to entries and adding things to them over the months following publication, and, that the part of the above disclaimer where I ask for help from people in keeping me honest and in remembering things is crucial to them. I thank anyone ahead of time who was there, and, those who weren't there who have access to valid info, for helping me to correct errors in dates or chronology. Yes, I have the Internet, but many bands, scenes and things I will cover did not receive the attention I feel that they deserved and thus I will recall them mostly from memory, or rather, memories; mine and those of friends. Also, friends who were in bands which I do not happen to mention, please don't take it personally, just remind me. I have created a monster in undertaking this blog, one which I am determined to ride until the end!

Lastly, as mentioned, this scene gained national attention, and thus, needless to say and as we all know, many bands/people became famous, became rock stars, were/are admired by millions, etc and etc...This makes another part of my original disclaimer even more important. This memoir is intended to tell my story, from my perspective. I have no intention of creating a place where people can seek gossip about famous people, nor is it about 'name-dropping'. I write of my impressions of people, bands, and the Seattle scene from the '90s into the early 2000s. I protect those who are my friends fiercely because a symptom of being known is frequent intrusion into their lives beyond a level that I feel is acceptable. Thank you for indulging me this disclaimer.

A kind of disclaimer on Violent Green entries...In writing about the band Violent Green, at this time I am not in contact with Jenny O'lay, so I am not directly getting input from her, and, one member is no longer alive. In the case of the former, out of respect to O'lay, I am compelled to keep personal details at a high level, and in terms of Drew Quinlan (RIP, Brother), I am not in touch with any of his family to get approval of what I write about concerning him, as I did with my previously passed bandmate, Pat Schmaljohn (and thus felt better in writing about Pat) but I do not have the same access to family in Drew's case, so for that reason, out of respect for Drew and his family, I will also keep details at a high level. I won't make it cold and unpersonal, don't misunderstand me. Our dynamic as people was a huge part of the band. I guess what I am getting at is there are details that will remain private, to meet with high standards I strive to meet on this blog, even more so in light of this lack of input from the former bandmates of which I write. I hope I have achieved these standards. This  also brings up the point I always make, but it is important to reiterate; this is all from my perspective only, and of anyone whom I get input from.

Our odd relationships and their tensions were one with the music, and I think, actually I know, that was a good thing, a necessary ingredient of this band, a band that forever reshaped how I thought about music, both listening to it and making it. I owe that to Drew and Jenny's brilliance and imperfectness, which made me feel okay about my own imperfections, (only to a degree, as my inner, self-critical voice was still in full effect) and it helped me realize that even I held brilliance, in my own way, when I played with them, warts and all. One thing I can confidently say is; we gave a fuck about the music. And that was because this was a highly musical band (most of the people who got what we were doing were musicians themselves) and thus I will focus much of my energy in terms of the VG entries talking about that; the music, it's influences and forms, and how the three of us and what we brought to the band from previous projects and the music we each loved, created, eventually, a rich tapestry. It is worth digging into this world O'lay spun with this bizarre, dark, poppy, goth, folksy punk music from Mars ~ * 

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My other blogs: Short Story Long - (Top of mind, conversational, formal essays, photo essays, etc.) Artwork, Poetry


The Seattle Landscape beyond 'Hype town'



The indie record label Sub Pop, started by Evergreen graduate Bruce Pavitt in 1986 as a fanzine in the early '80s, Subterranean Pop, and, as the excellent associated cassette compilations that led to the label itself, had come to gain international attention by 1992-93 (with help from the label Glitterhouse Records, who handled European distribution, and thanks to the European, especially British, music press.)  

Sub Pop tapped into what folks in their mid to late '20s (like myself!) were into, and what they hated, and, were benefactors of the happy accident of putting out the first Nirvana releases just before that band blew up nationally and internationally, and that brought revenue. Jonathan Poneman and Bruce Pavitt's little label began to have way more influence on the overall culture than their income or even physical reach should have enjoyed (remember this was pre-internet) at least based on the way things had always been done in the industry up until then. 

Say what you will about Sub Pop, their rise to (near) the top of American pop culture is one of those 'rags to riches' stories. Although you really couldn't call it 'riches' by the standards of rich people or labels, but for indie rock dirtbag ('Loser' brand) nerd kids coming out of a liberal arts mecca college (Evergreen in Washington, whose students were hatching other crucial elements of the subculture rise of the late '80s through the '90s, like Calvin Johnson, co-founder of K Records, whose orbit I was soon to be in, or my friend Steve Fisk, pushing boundaries in music production) and it was pretty awesome. Also, Sub Pop didn't always pay like a rich label (but as to why this is/was will start many debates, and I don't want to do that in this space.) Ok, ok, so maybe rags to riches misses the mark. At any rate, the story of Sub Pop is a story of a somewhat unlikely success.

Jonathan Poneman & Bruce Pavitt, 1988

Copyright Jeff Smith, 2012

The success of Sub Pop and thus Nirvana hatched a hungry, hungry scene in Seattle, as I have thoroughly covered in this blog. I have joked that I have been the 'Forest Gump of Indie Rock' before. I hadn't realized until talking to a friend about it recently that this observation needs more clarification as to what I mean, I mean specifically how Gump seemed to, by accident, be present at big moments in history, and I would say that my proximity to people close to Kurt Cobain, my having friends and living with people who were among Sup Pop's first employees (including, of course Chris Takino, who started Up Records to put out a record for Violent Green) Treepeople opening for Nirvana 6 months before they blew up, all can be categorized as examples of what I mean by this silly metaphor in terms of relating to what I am covering here. I had no such thoughts at the time, of course. This observation is strictly 20/20 vision stuff, from Older Wayne. 

But I ended up, quite by some accident (in addition to of course some determination and work, of course) in the midst of one of the hottest places for music in the history of music in the US. That was never a goal, it just happened. Really, though, in terms of any level of success, other than there suddenly being a hundred or so bands vying for slots on shows in the same old clubs, for musicians actually playing there, the needle hadn't moved much, and certainly not for Violent Green! By this I mean, the industry machine tends to look to find a band with whatever 'formula' fits something that just broke, causing them to miss the next thing to break...like Neil Young's lyric, "...Looking for the wave you missed/When another one is close at hand..."

As for VG, we continued to do our thing, and shape our sound. Jenny was writing at an accelerated clip, what would later be revealed as a part of her processing the beginning period of a break up with her long term partner, whom I will call C. It ended up being a much commiserated state of mind for all of us, Fisk included. Jumping ahead like a naughty time traveler, I so apologize. Ahem. Where were we?

"...I like to think that when something disturbs me...It is important." ~ Steven Jesse Bernstein, poet

Part of what happens in an exploding music scene which is a wonderful and welcome consequence, is that other forms of art within that scene gain attention as well; visual art scenes, poetry scenes, theater. A dynamic, unique local poet whose readings came off as performances was Steven Jesse Bernstein, known as Jesse Bernstein except to a small number of close friends. 

Jesse had been putting spoken word recordings out on Sub Pop, and the marriage was beneficial to both label and artist. Berstein opened for Sub Pop bands like TAD and Nirvana, had opened the famous Seattle Steam Plant performance of Chicago band Big Black (a band it could be said had a considerable influence on the Seattle music scene at the time) and was friends with the legendary poet William S. Burroughs. The Seattle music scene went wild about him, despite the fact that they never really grasped the deep, dark place he was getting to, I am afraid that he was never taken as seriously as he should have been on the merits of his work. I corresponded with Steve Fisk about this recently and here is his take on what I bring up here, "...Bernstein himself helped trivialize his work when he was alive, he played up the dark, the scat, the blood and guts, because he knew his "audience". If you look at his books and other writing you can see the deep thought and heart in his work. He was a real author not some Felliniesque Satyraclown. I'm sure somewhere Jessie [sic] is smiling because we still remember him and his profound influences on many artists..."

Above, postcard written by William S. Burroughs to Jesse Bernstein, provided by Steve Fisk and Anne Marie Ggrgich

My perspective on Bernstein comes from a place of not having seen him then (I missed him due to time conflicts a few times, to my great regret) but from many friends' opinions, friends who knew him, had seen him perform many times. One of those friends, as mentioned above, was producer Steve Fisk, who was in the middle of producing Jesse Bernstein's groundbreaking spoken word/sample lp on Sub Pop, Prison, when Jesse committed suicide, in 1991. Fisk described how he often ran into people when walking around near his studio after Jesse's suicide who knew he was working on Prison, and this inspired him to go out less.

 

Prison, a groundbreaking spoken word/sampling album, words and performance by Seattle poet Steven Jesse Bernstein, production and music composition by Steve Fisk

At the time, Fisk was living in the iconic small building just up the hill from the North Waterfront, where could be found the famous Cyclops Cafe', located directly next door to Fisk's apartment, which itself was home to his studio, part of a larger artist collective called SCUD ('Subteranean Cooperative of Urban Dreamers,' a play on the SCUD missles that were being used in the Gulf War at the time, and a name Fisk never embraced; "...By 1989 I was really sick of "underground" as a brand AND I was never a dreamer passed [sic] the age of 15...") 

I sometimes hung out with Fisk at his home studio (which didn't have a name), and recorded my first solo stuff I ever did with an actual producer there (I still have that stuff, somewhere) and I remember being there right after Jesse died, and Jesse's wife was calling Fisk often, he did his best to console her, and there was of course unavoidable business to take care of despite the grief. I will never forget the unbelievable task he had in front of him, spending hours on end listening to Jesse's deep, pained voice as it hurled truths nakedly, through the speakers, and around which Fisk wove magic music and noisescapes. I tried to be of some comfort, but unsuccessfully. 

Steve Fisk in '86 or '87 at the Cyclops Cafe' ~ Photo by Cam Garrett

Prison had a profound impact on many people, myself included, and, in retrospect, as did the aforementioned music project Fisk was half of, Pigeonhed (Shawn Smith of Seattle bands Brad & Satchel being the other half - RIP this year.) Prison also had a huge influence on Violent Green, especially in the later part of the band. I say this mostly in relationship to the artful ways in which Fisk's music-scapes are composed, in part, of found sounds, some of which are manipulated into beats, something that the 'Trip Hop' movement was picking up on, but that Fisk had been doing steadily in his solo work and appropriate production for bands since the early '80s. And per Fisk, Prison was crucial to the beginning of Pigeonhed, "...Its [sic] also worth noting that Prison was the begining of Pigeonhed. Its [sic] the first place where Shawn  understood my beats and approach. We started working later that summer and our little group was born." 

Drew listened to Prison carefully, over and over, for years, and I can only assume Jenny did as well, it certainly shows in her later sampling work. I listened to it when I was in the mood. I think my association with the sadness I had witnessed it causing Fisk made it harder to listen to, as if I knew Jesse vicariously. But Drew took notes, and it radically changed his approach to how he used samples, and specifically what sounds he chose to sample.   

Click here to listen to Party Balloon from the lp Prison, by Jesse Bernstein & Steve Fisk

Prison is one of those albums that will be simultaneously timeless and ultimately of its time and place, forever; A shining anomaly in the Sub Pop catalog, to be sure. Also, looking back, I see that it foretold a darkness to come in the music scene. Bernstein left the proverbial and literal stage just before things got weird (well, weirder) and more people started dying. For me personally, this darkness more and more became a reckoning with my own personal demons. I no longer looked away from what troubled me, I tried to face it, but it would take years and lots of pain, for myself and others. Jesse Bernstein has a phrase, "...I like to think that when something disturbs me...It is important..." These words, uttered in his stark, bleak tones, echoed through my life from there forward. It was a start, though of course I haven't even gotten to the part of the tale where I started fucking up my life, but we'll get there!

Tales of Wandering Trees

Jumping back to '93, Treepeople began yet another morphing, after recording an album somewhat like how the later era Beatles recorded their last studio record (not to imply this was the last studio lp for Treepeople) that is, everyone adding their parts at different times [Present Wayne (Future Wayne to you) here - You couldn't have gotten this more wrong, about the Beatles, anyway, as they in fact recroded it live, all sitting in the same room. Yours, Future Wayne]. Eric Akre, whom we had known for years, the Tri-City wonder kid drummer from Diddly Squat and Christ on a Crutch was now a seasoned pro on drums, and the new drummer in Treepeople. Akre had always been a big Treepeople fan, and had been in threads of our story for some time, even having handwritten all the words for the covers and liner of the Treepeople lp Guilt, Regret, Embarrassment, and having played drums on the very last ever recording of a resurrected State of Confusion for one last hurrah at Electric Eel studio (see upcoming 'Missing Bits' entry, a new thing where I cover all the shit I missed!) Akre also gave me some crucial drumming tips in my only ever lesson that helped me tremendously later (listen to the difference in my drumming from 'Time Whore' to 'GRE'). Eric made sense as the next drummer, and his joining had almost happened before Tony joined the band, I believe. Tony went on to focus on other projects, including his band Twelve Thirty Dreamtime (who reunited and played a recent Treepeople reunion show here in Portland, Oregon, March, 2018.) but would return to the band later. I digress.  

 Treepeople's 1993 LP,  Just Kidding - Artwork by Mike Scheer

The Treepeople LP Just Kidding has moments, but doesn't feel cohesive to me, and after learning of the above mentioned twilight Beatleesque era style recording process involved in the making of it, this doesn't surprise me. I believe that by the time this record came out, Doug had already released the first Built to Spill LP, Ultimate Alternative Wavers and was well on the way with that project becoming a band and touring. What is apparent on Just Kidding to me is how much more Scott came to dominate the band, and, how it became a showcase for his songwriting, which I feel the last Treepeople record, Actual Reenactment, highlights even more, and has hints of things to come for him. 

Pat Schmaljohn would soon quit Treepeople and eventually end up in Boise after a stint as the Production Manger at The Stranger alt culture mag in Seattle (96-97) which had grown in both readership and local cultural influence, and had by then started a trend of snarky local culture rags throughout the country, a good or bad thing depending on your perspective. 

Also recent in Pat's life was marriage to a new partner. Around this time [Correction from who was then 'Future Wayne' at the time of this writing, currently Now Wayne, soon to also be Past Wayne, but this actually happened just after Pat got the job at the Stranger, so it would have actually been around 1996 - Now Wayne], Pat and his wife showed up at my door, at least as I remember it happened, he may have arranged ahead of time, I don't know for sure, it seems more likely he would have, considering how sensitive the subject since his last, threatening presence and exit in our apartment on Capitol Hill, and right next door to where our near blows conflict had happened, causing my exit from the band. Either way, his visit and his wife's accompaniment meant the world to me, was a ray of sunlight on our troubled relationship. We caught up, he told me of the job, his wife told me of her life, my girlfriend even joined us in the conversation for a time, as I remember it. And he left me with a letter (or mailed it prior or after?) a photocopied single letter he gave to all his friends whom he felt he had wronged, apologizing for ever offending anyone with past behavior. I don't know if it was part of a twelve step thing or not (it felt that way), but I accepted the apology and was looking forward to becoming friends again, over time. But, though I did see him a few more times before he passed, once while he played with his great, short-lived Boise band Hive, it was never to be.

Doug Martsch was busy touring with Built to Spill in '93, to hype, I imagine an upcoming LP on Up Records, which would be 1994's brilliant, There's Nothing Wrong With Love. 

I was playing as much music as I could, and hanging out almost exclusively with musicians, so projects were always bubbling up. I had some false starts, one of which I remember mostly for the cool name I came up with, Wonder Twin Powers, and for the fact that its two members besides myself, both players from a Seattle hardcore punk band called Last Gasp who played shows with our friends the legendary Whipped and a few with Treepeople, would cross paths with me again musically, one as recently as 2014 to the present day. That is, the drummer Chris Trenton and the guitarist Fred Speakman. We rehearsed once, in a half burned out warehouse. Nothing else came of it. About 5 years later, Chris would drum for my short-lived Seattle band, Panic Bird. 15 years after that, I would drum in the reformed band that inspired me to play music in the early '80s, The Commonauts, with Fred on guitar (still a band as of this writing) and, another band that never did but a couple rehearsals, with me on drums and Doug Pack, guitarist/cosinger/cosongwriter for Whipped played guitar, the band name I came up for this project was 6 Feet Underwear. Thank you for indulging me in my musings on this time-release synchronicity! Inevitably relevant to a story that still unfolds every day...

The Dungeon and The Chophouse

Violent Green had bopped around as far as rehearsal spaces were concerned but finally found a home at a place befitting the horror movie sounding heading of this section, which are merely the names of our respective spaces through the end of the band; That is, The Dungeon, so named because friends of friends filmed B level (hell, C level!) horror films there. It was in the basement of an old building (possibly from the late 1800s) that housed some of the best establishments in Seattle at the time, like the Wild Rose, a lesbian bar, maybe the biggest such in town at the time (and where a former co-worker and friend of mine was managing the kitchen) a cool coffee house, Cafe Paradiso (where incidentally I saw Modest Mouse as snotty skinny kids tear it up not long after this time) and other funky businesses when that strip on South Capitol Hill was still funky. 

The rehearsal space itself was a HUGE cavernous room, mostly filled with home made horror film props and music gear. There was a nasty 'piss bucket,' which was kept filled mostly with Simple Green cleanser and SOMETIMES regularly emptied into a tangle of blackberry bushes outside the door. Rancid, gross, I admit I used it a few times, it but soon stopped (I think the smell almost made me puke once, is why.) 

Other bands I remember us sharing the space with were Crisis Rebirth, a hippy crusty punk/metal dirge band, really good, the singer was Ajax, who sang for the aforementioned hardcore band Last Gasp. Ajax was friends with Drew and most of my friends, and he was gravitating more and more toward metal noise, and ultimately noise, with something called LISAP [Life Is Shit And Puke] Opera, a solo noise project with occasional guests, one time I was the guest, playing a show, my instrument a short wave radio on a mic. 

Ajax was a frequent guest for Drew's home recording sessions, as he was dating one of Drew's roommates (the excellent drummer Maria Mabra) and was often present. He has a unique scream and voice in general, and at the time possessed no inhibition performing, or personally. The drummer for Crisis Rebirth, I soon found out, was none other than a grown up drummer who had played in the bitchy metal kid band State Of Confusion had played with at the odd skating rink in Port Orchard, Washington, in 1986 (Tempered Steel, they were called, and I immediately renamed them 'Tempermental Steel'). I would see Crisis Rebirth play a show in the woods using a generator around this time, it was pretty cool, until the cops shut it down.

Photo of The Chophouse rehearsal studios, Capitol Hill, Seattle - Photo retrieved from the Chophouse Facebook page (which lists the space as 'permanently closed'.) I couldn't find any photos of The Dungeon, but it was located behind where this photographer was standing, across the street from The Chophouse.

I do believe the awesome band Officer Down also practiced at The Dungeon, and probably a number of other bands I am forgetting (anyone who knows of any please send me a message or comment here!) We practiced there maybe a year as I remember it, before moving across the street to a full on professional facility called 'The Chophouse.' More on Chophouse later, but it makes sense we ended up there. The music industry exploding also gave rise to whole other related industries like rehearsal spaces, and many of our peers in the music scene had moved to the Chophouse as well. Moving to this space began a new songwriting focus for the band, as we crafted songs for what would become a dark jewel of an album, Eros.

Next time: Tragedy strikes the Seattle scene as one of our own is murdered.